


Caliginosity

by honeysunflowerfae



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Autistic Chara (Undertale), Autistic Frisk (Undertale), Autistic Kris (Deltarune), Crossover, Family Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Good W. D. Gaster, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Asgore Dreemurr/Toriel, Mute Frisk (Undertale), Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Nonbinary Kris (Deltarune), Nonverbal Frisk (Undertale), POV Alternating, Parent W. D. Gaster, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Kris (Deltarune), Scientist W. D. Gaster, Selectively Mute Kris (Deltarune), Semiverbal Kris (Deltarune), Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Undertale AU, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysunflowerfae/pseuds/honeysunflowerfae
Summary: "but how will i write a fic where both undertale canon and deltarune canon happen" i asked?"i got u" my 3am galaxy brain replied"𝘒𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘷 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥."a fic in which everything and nothing is canon, and i die. ride with me to helltags may update as this goes on because i dont have the whole thing plotted yet
Relationships: Asgore Dreemurr & Toriel, Chara & Asgore Dreemurr, Chara & Asriel Dreemurr, Chara & Frisk (Undertale) & Kris (Deltarune), Chara & Papyrus & Sans (Undertale), Chara & Toriel (Undertale), Chara & Undyne (Undertale), Chara & W. D. Gaster, Chara (Undertale) & Ralsei (Deltarune), Chara (Undertale) & Susie (Deltarune), Frisk & Papyrus & Sans (Undertale), Frisk & Toriel (Undertale), Frisk & W. D. Gaster, Kris & Lancer & Ralsei & Susie (Deltarune), W. D. Gaster & Papyrus & Sans, W. D. Gaster & Toriel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Caliginosity

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘯𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘪𝘵.  
𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘢𝘹, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦. 

𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺.  
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘢, 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴.  
𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨-𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦.  
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴…  
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘎𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘛 𝘞𝘈𝘙.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.  
𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭.  
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘌𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵.  
𝘉𝘺 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦, 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.  
𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥.

𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦  
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.  
𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴…  
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘓𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘳, 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘥𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦.  
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥.  
𝘐𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.  
𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥.  
𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺𝘵𝘩.  
𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯.  
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘎𝘰𝘥.  
𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭--  
𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮--  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦.

𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨.  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦.  
𝘚𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦.  
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳...  
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘮.

\---

No monster ever goes to the village of Ebbot, the only human village in the world. No monster that is, except one.  
Lost to monsterkind in the war, the renowned scientist Dr. W. D. Gaster had always lived in the mountain at the edge of the kingdom, studying and experimenting, and inventing all sorts of things. Old and powerful, he never suffered under human arrogance. They feared and respected him like no other; he was a madman who could change the movements of the stars themselves on a whim, he was everywhere, and nowhere, and always right where he was needed. And needed he was, always by those less fortunate. A commanding presence and little tolerance for interruption, but no less kind than any other monster of the time. If one should ever find themselves in a crisis, he was always there and reliable if you were brave enough -- and desperate enough -- to seek him. 

And Dr. Gaster did not like the war. It was disruptive, it was cruel. He had come down from his mountain, and gathered those like minded in secret. They had built a shelter underground in secret for the humans, one that would tunnel from the outskirts of their old villages, all the way to Ebbot. The humans there could go quietly during the war, and return just as silent later when all was done.  
But there was a traitor in their midst. Though the shelter and tunnels were completed, the royal forces took the humans away, blocked the secret entrances, and arrested the followers of Dr. Gaster. They never did catch the doctor, who returned to his mountain, outside their influence.  
Today, the humans fear him more, to have a monster in their presence after such a trauma. He lives alone, incomprehensibly old and still just as kind in his mountain that holds everything he needs and more. He does not turn away humans who come to him, and is careful to control his temper, for any human desperate enough to come to him despite history is in a great deal of trouble indeed. 

\---

An orphaned child struggles to carry two infants up the slopes of Mt. Ebbot. The babies are tied to the child securely in a sort of makeshift carrier, but it is more weight still than this child is used to.  
They had heard -- in whispers through the empty winding streets one night -- of a terrifying being that lived in the mountain's cavern. They had heard that this creature was all-powerful, and if they were lucky, was the only thing that could save their siblings. The unseen speaker in the darkness would not specify who -- or what -- this being was, and had disappeared without a trace. The mere presence of that speaker had brought the wind to a standstill, as if the air had been too heavy to move. The world had seemed to wait to be sure they were heard, as if they were some kind of angel. Kris wasn’t sure whether or not it was a dream, but it was their only chance. They could sense that they were running out of time.  
Kris' legs shook with a little more than just the strain of climbing the mountain. They did not feel very lucky, orphaned with the birth of the twins they now carried, and abandoned on the streets by their father. They were hungry, and knew the babies were hungrier; even though they slept soundly now. The three of them were different, and that made them hated. No one in the village was willing to take them. This wasn’t fair, they were only children. They hadn't even had the chance to do something wrong.  
The abilities Kris held had landed them in this fate, and if this went wrong, they would be what got them out. They were not lucky, they were not brave, but they were certain to make it through if they were patient enough to make it happen. This was the only remaining choice. 

They reached the cavern's entrance as the sun rose behind the mountain, casting long shadows across the land. The brighter contrast of the sky only served to make the interior seem yet darker. The stillness of the early morning coldly crept through the surrounding forest, as the night animals slept before the early risers awoke. Kris' heartbeat felt louder in their ears than the strained wheezing of their panting breath, and they stepped inside. 

The halls were quiet; too quiet as such a chamber should at least have echoed their footsteps, their breath, the soft noises coming from the infants so close to waking. Instead, the walls seemed to swallow all sound.  
They kept walking. 

\---

Gaster barely looked up from his work as he reached for the mug of tea on his desk, only to find it empty. He clicked his teeth in frustration and ran his fingers carelessly over the fracture lines in his skull.  
He grabbed the large pot next to it, only to find that empty too. This meant it was break time. That had always been the rule; at the end of every pot of tea he had to take a break, or else he would never sleep. He stood and stretched carefully, not wanting to bump his still-delicate prototype on the desk. It had taken thousands of years, but he was so close to creating something that could break the protective barrier surrounding the palace. his loyal followers had never been released after the war, and he was unwilling to consider them dusted just yet.  
He frowned as he made his way to the kitchen, extra hands grabbing the mug and teapot behind him and dutifully floating after him.  
As he collected more fresh leaves, he allowed his mind to wander back to his work. He couldn't help but feel that this prototype too, while closer than all the others, still lacked something. A hand went to the whiteboard on the fridge and started writing potential improvements for the next one as he thought. A soft, but firm knock cut through his musings, and he went to the door with the peppermint leaves still in hand. 

The child stood no higher than his hip and did not try to look up to his face. they shook slightly as they tried to speak, like the act of forcing out a word was painful. Gaster knelt slowly, and the child clutched at the two bundles tied to them. one stirred, and reached out a tiny hand to clutch feebly at any part of the child it could reach.  
"Please," they managed. "Please."

\---

The strange tall man led them through his house and sat them down at the kitchen table. It was only slightly warmer in here, sheltered from the wind and elements and with the lights giving off a small amount of heat. Anyone could have said it was still too cold, but the man did not seem to mind it, and anything was better than the streets Kris was so used to. He had his back to them, and they watched as he prepared a pot of something that smelled sweet and minty. He was skeletal, but not a skeleton. Kris was unsure exactly what a human skeleton looked like, but was pretty sure they didn't have holes in their hands, and without skin, the jaw and teeth should have been visible. And they had only seen his face for a moment, but he didn't seem to have a nose, or any holes where there would be one either. He was dressed plainly in comfortable looking black clothes, and some kind of heavy white coat was slung over the back of the only other chair in the room. it had various stains and a couple neat patches, and was absolutely covered in hasty scrawlings that Kris couldn't have made out even if they could read.

They saw movement in the corner of their eye and they turned to see something that looked an awful lot like one of the man's hands -- not attached to anything -- feeling the spines of books. It found the one it was looking for and pulled it from the shelf, brought it to the table, and floated off looking for something else. The book was paperback and looked underused for something so old; the top edge had a thin coat of dust that was obvious against the white cover. The title was printed in faded blue, and there was the silhouette of a small person on the front -- perhaps a child. This was not enough information for Kris to guess much at the contents, so they elected to wait. 

The man turned from the counter. In his own hands, he carefully moved a full teapot to the table. Two other hands, presumably also his but not attached, brought mugs over. It was a strange sight.  
He poured the tea and a disembodied hand set one of the mugs in front of Kris. As he sat down and pulled the book towards himself, he watched them. The hand that had left earlier returned with a light scraping sound as it dragged an old-fashioned baby cradle across the floor. The other two hands went to help it.  
Kris glanced at the man, who simply waited. He was impossible to read. they bit their lip nervously as they carefully untied the cloth carrier from themself and put the twins into the cradle. One of them almost started to cry, but Kris gave their hand for them to hold for comfort. they took the tea with their other hand. They would have to trust this man at least a little if they were going to get any meaningful help here. He smiled lightly, and turned his attention to the book. 

\---

Gaster could mostly guess why these children were here all alone. there were only about three options of course, but he could rule out abuse on the lack of any injury or flinching, and rule out being sent by a parent given the presence of the infants.  
He did not know much about taking care of children, much less human. He was sure they would be a distraction to his work and a bother, but equally sure they had nowhere else to turn. there wasn't really a choice. 

He kept his face carefully neutral as he skimmed through an old human parenting book. He had never been interested in children or parenting, human or otherwise. The book had been a sarcastic gift from an old acquaintance -- part of a dare, he was sure, to find any book he would not simply add to his collection. He had certainly considered donating it somewhere it would be of better use, and had somehow never gotten around to it. But now he was glad to have kept it, even if he had to add the braille to the spine himself. 

The minutes stretched on in near silence. The child had made no further attempts to speak since entering his home, and he wondered if perhaps they had looked pained then because it was painful to force the words out. They were watching him carefully now, but made no attempt to get his attention. He glanced up from the book at them, but as soon as he made eye contact, they quickly looked down at their now-half-empty mug of tea. 

Gaster regarded the child carefully. they were no longer shaking or out of breath, and they held the mug close, preferring to hold it rather than drinking it. He himself was not affected by the cold, but it was evident that they had been, and a heat source was more valuable to them than the drink itself. He would have to reroute some of the heat from deeper underground to his home. It wouldn't be hard for him, it would only be some slight modifications to the CORE, built many centuries ago to generate power. But this would only take more time away from his main project. He was distantly aware of his extra hands still working to make one of the extra rooms ready for the children. He willed half of them to find the tools and parts he would need later, and returned his attention to the child, who was still carefully studying their tea.  
They shifted constantly in their seat, but slowly so as to make as little noise as possible.  
they could speak, but didn't seem to want to.  
They had had no problem watching him so long as he didn’t catch their eye, so the chances of them being frightened by his appearance or being a monster was less likely than....

He cleared his throat softly. "Do you dislike eye contact?"

\---

Kris startled into stillness at the sudden noise. The man's voice seemed to crackle and hiss out of him like tv static. Though he kept his voice low, it filled the space quite easily, and echoed like all of the other sounds should have. It was a powerful and deep noise. The noise had an air of authority to it, though whatever he had said had seemed more of a question than a command.  
they peeked up at his face, keeping their head low so they could hide behind their bangs. watching the man's mouth carefully, Kris slowly raised their hand to their ear and tapped it twice to indicate that they had not heard him clearly enough.  
The man understood, but instead of repeating himself, he set down the book to lift his own hands and make a series of gestures they had never seen before. The gestures clearly meant something, but Kris couldn't make sense of it.  
Their confusion must have been obvious to the man, because he lowered his hands again and folded them on the table. He got an expression on his face that Kris didn't understand, and shifted his hands as if to lift them before putting them down again indecisively. 

Kris grimaced. They hated talking. They hated how words made their mouth feel. They hated how easy it was for everyone else when they struggled to even get singular, disjointed words out.  
One of the twins -- they could tell it was Frisk without looking over -- grabbed Kris' pinky finger in their sleep. Kris took a steadying breath. They would get the twins help even if it took all day spitting out one word after another. Even if they had to spend this day over and over again forcing words out until they found the right ones. 

They took their time practicing the same words over and over in their head before carefully positioning their mouth to make the first syllable. "Sss," they stuttered the first word into a hiss. "Say," they tried. They hoped this was the right volume. It was so hard to make noise and words at the same time. The second word would be harder. "a ga i n."

\---

Gaster wouldn't have been able to hear the child if he hadn't been watching them. Speaking did seem to be a source of distress, and they didn't seem to be able to do it well. Yet no one had bothered to teach them any sign, even though they must have been old enough to start school already. He dismissed the thought. It was something to deal with later. 

"Do you dislike eye contact?" 

He watched as they studied the way his mouth moved. It could be called lip-reading if he had had proper lips.  
They carefully mouthed his question back slowly, as if trying to get a feel for the words, and then nodded. It was progress. 

"You are not comfortable speaking," he stated. It required no answer, as it was an observation, not a question, but he waited for them to process and nod nonetheless. "Can you write?"  
The child looked displeased, and shook their head. 

This would take hours, at this rate. It was a little out-of-order, but it would be more efficient to get them settled first and ask questions later. He distantly felt around the extra room one last time to be sure everything was in place before he spoke.  
"The three of you will stay here with me," he began, watching them carefully to be sure they understood before continuing. "I have prepared a room. I will teach you a more effective way of communication... and we will have this conversation again later."

The child looked surprised. evidently, shelter was not something they had planned to ask for. But they gave no signs of distress or disagreement. Instead, they carefully extracted their hand from the crib to better hold and drink from the mug.


End file.
